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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23657062">True Colors</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikaylaSarae/pseuds/NikaylaSarae'>NikaylaSarae</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sanders Sides (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Negative Self Talk, song!fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 23:07:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,823</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23657062</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikaylaSarae/pseuds/NikaylaSarae</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a place in the mindscape that Roman only goes to as a last resort when the criticism from the others becomes too much. Unfortunately, it’s becoming an all too frequent occurrence.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>True Colors</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Song: True Colors -version sung in the movie Trolls</p>
<p>Cross-posted with minor edits from my Tumblr account @stillebesat</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Roman had never been more glad to disappear into his room. Only when the lock clicked, locking himself inside, did he exhale, resting his head against the wall next to the door, rubbing at his chest. “All well that ends well, Ro.” He mumbled.</p>
<p>And today...had not gone well. Another day of failed ideas. Another day full of criticism where in the end...only two of the hundred ideas he’d had...had passed merit. And the two that passed, ha. It was still unknown if Thomas would actually be able to do them or want to do them. At least they’d been deemed the most...feasible to bring up to him. </p>
<p>It was another day….Roman’s shoulders slumped as he pulled his hand away from his white jacket, grimacing at the shadowy soot now covering his fingers. Another day without any compliments, and it was beginning to show.</p>
<p>“It’s not like you deserve them.” He whispered, dropping his blackened hand as he turned from the door to stare listlessly at his king-sized bed. He’d done nothing but screw up and mess up for the past...well fiveever really. It seemed like the harder he tried, the more he and his ideas were criticized and deemed unworthy. </p>
<p>It had been so easy in the beginning, back when Thomas was unknown and just starting out as a Viner. Then, almost every idea that Roman had given to Thomas had been met with immediate approval. </p>
<p>Now though? With a fast growing fanbase, Thomas had to be more careful, more conscious of the messages he was sending to his followers. </p>
<p>It was pressure that Roman was...failing to live up to. With the demand to produce good quality content only growing larger, nothing he ever came up with ever seemed satisfactory. And it was...discouraging. <br/>Roman ran his hand through his hair. A hundred ideas. In the good old days at least eighty of them would have been approved. Now it was two. </p>
<p>Just. Two. </p>
<p>Two useless ideas. He was failing in his job. He was failing as Creativity. He was just a big blundering buffoon who--</p>
<p>”Okay, this isn’t helping.” Roman interrupted himself, pushing from the wall and turning from the welcoming canopy bed. He glanced at his hand again, grimacing at the coal black color covering it like a sooty glove. He was holding too much negativity to be productive, and Thomas needed him to be in top shape...at least he….well maybe he still did. </p>
<p>Roman dragged his feet past the bed to the far wall. At this point...he didn’t know. At this point he doubted that the others would care or notice if he buried himself under those covers and never emerged from them again. </p>
<p>Patton and Logan could come up with ideas that were more family friendly and more educational. Even Anxiety had his two bits to offer that were...helpful. At least he knew how to create some drama. Nobody would miss Roman. No one would miss Creativity.</p>
<p>After all, there was a reason why he was the least favorite side. He was too dramatic. Too over the top. Too unrelatable. Too...too...Him. Nobody liked him. He doubted even Thomas appreciated him much at this point with his ideas constantly ending up being too complicated to be implemented in a timely or cost effective manner. </p>
<p>But. </p>
<p>Roman pressed his hand against the stonework of the wall, his fingers running over the tiny crown design carved there. Drawing a deep breath, he pressed the symbol, pulling his hand back as the wall slid open a crack. He glanced back to his bedroom door, double checking that it was locked before he slipped inside the hidden space.</p>
<p>Compared to the bright royal castle design of his main room, this room was….well, white. A blank space really. </p>
<p>Roman blinked, letting his eyes adjust to the ambient light coming from everywhere and nowhere as he pulled off his boots and socks, leaving them by the door. </p>
<p>This was his private sanctuary. A place where ideas and emotions could be freed without fear of it affecting Thomas. A place he could retreat to that the others were unaware of---Roman grimaced. Well. Almost unaware of. They had briefly glimpsed this place when he’d messed up forming the mind palace. </p>
<p>He glanced down to his feet as he moved to the center of the room, brow furrowing as his bare feet left black imprints in his wake. </p>
<p>Roman gripped his arms, hugging himself tightly. He’d been put on the spot when Patton had suggested creating a cozy little mind palace for them all to go to. A Prince should be ready for anything, but he had been blindsided by the father figure asking for his input. After all, they’d been focusing on helping Thomas be more mature. That was Patton’s domain. Not Roman’s.</p>
<p>He stiffened, blackened fingers digging into his jacket. Had...had Patton done it on purpose to make him mess up? </p>
<p>Roman groaned, shaking his head, violently tossing the thought way. No. That wasn’t Morality. He was too...nice to do anything but try and help.</p>
<p>Still. It had caught him off guard and he’d had to scramble quickly to move them without appearing flustered. After all, a Prince needed to be ready for any situation. He was supposed to be the confident one. The one with all the ideas. And well... he hadn’t quite cleared his mind of his own sanctuary when he swished the others to a new location.  </p>
<p>How could he not have thought of this place first? This near empty room with its blank walls, and a basic cot in the far corner with a simple chair and desk near it? This was where he went when he needed to regain balance and work things out. This is where he went when the negativity got to be too much. This was his blank slate. A place to start anew. </p>
<p>A place he’d been needing to come to too much lately. </p>
<p>Honestly, he’d put off coming here for far too long. Because he had foolishly hoped that the others would be more supportive, that they would help him to cast off the negativity with compliments and approval... instead of needing to do it all on his own. </p>
<p>Roman ran a hand through his hair again, growling under his breath as he moved to the desk, to the object purposely hidden behind a white sheet above it. </p>
<p>Thankfully, the others had believed that he’d actually drawn a blank and hadn’t questioned their brief look into his sanctuary, thinking it only a pit stop to the main mind palace. </p>
<p>Which showed just how little faith they had in him now, didn’t it?</p>
<p>Him? Creativity? Draw a blank?! Ha! A major blank if he couldn’t even form a room correctly the first time. It hurt. Hurt that the others hadn’t questioned the white room. Hadn’t wondered why it existed in the first place. It was just another piece of proof to add to the pile that he was becoming a useless Side. A Side who would only mess things up instead of make them better. </p>
<p>After all, the mind palace itself hadn’t even worked correctly. It had been a good idea for what? All of two seconds and then? That freaking echo had ruined everything. He still hadn’t figured out how to fix it! One shining moment where he’d thought he’d created something worthwhile...and it had fizzled out like a cheap firecracker. </p>
<p>Roman reached up grabbing onto the cloth hanging above the desk. He looked away as he pulled the coarse woven fabric to the side, revealing the ornate mirror that hung there.  </p>
<p>Placing his shadow colored hands flat on the desk, Roman inhaled deeply, working to steady his breathing. He could see his hands reflected in the mirror, see the negativity seeping from his fingers onto the desk like an oil slick, but he didn’t dare look up to see the rest of his reflection. Not yet. </p>
<p>Licking his lips, Roman cleared his throat, steeling himself. He wished he didn’t need to do this. Wished that the others would have--but it was pointless to wish for things wasn’t it? There was no genie, glowing star, or fairy godmother here to make them come true. If he was going to continue helping Thomas...Roman needed to do this. On his own. By himself. </p>
<p><i>“You-”</i> His voice faltered. Roman shut his eyes, drawing a deep breath. Come on, half-wit. It wasn’t that hard to sing. He annoyed the others in the commons all the time by doing so. It was unproductive there, but here. He forced his mouth open. <i>“You with the sad eyes.”</i> He sang off key, his voice cracking. </p>
<p>He flinched at the horrible sound, the desk flashing coal black as his fingers dug into the wood. Come on, dunce. You can sing better than that! <i>“Don--don’t be discouraged.”</i>  </p>
<p>Roman hunched his shoulders further, swallowing over the lump in his throat. Discouraged. Ha. He was more than discouraged at this point. It had been so long since anyone had said anything remotely positive to him.</p>
<p><i>“Oh, I realize…”</i> Roman grimaced, <i>“It’s hard to take courage.”</i></p>
<p>A Prince shouldn’t hesitate, should be the run to rescue others, be the one everyone looked up to, admired. The one they could trust to do the right thing. </p>
<p>What was the right thing though? He didn’t know anymore. Whatever it was, he wasn’t doing it. Otherwise the others would be more happy to see him when he came into the room. They would be more supportive of his ideas. They would be giving him the compliments he so desperately needed.</p>
<p><i>“In a world full of people, you can lose sight of it all.”</i> Slowly Roman opened his eyes, staring at the warped blackened wood. He straighten from his hunched position keeping his eyes away from his reflection as he tugged off his jacket, revealing his pitch black shirt underneath. </p>
<p>It should have been white. A Prince should only wear white. </p>
<p>Roman swallowed, setting his jacket on the back of the chair. <i>“The darkness inside you.”</i> He slowly dragged his gaze upwards, to meet his reflection’s shadow filled eyes. <i>“Can make you feel so small.”</i> He whispered. </p>
<p>He looked like a hot mess...nay cool, nay, an uncool mess. His hair, foremost, looked like a wild bird’s nest after running his hands repeatedly through it. Roman grimaced, smoothing it back down as best he could, leaving black streaks there. Then there was the rest of him. His skin had lost its sun-tanned glow. Pale, nearly sallow in color, it only made his shadowed eyes stand out all the more, like a ghoul about to go haunting. Roman dropped his gaze from the unprincely sight. Really, with the addition of the blackened shirt and pants, if he left this place now he would easily be mistaken for Anxiety. </p>
<p>Would anyone notice? </p>
<p>Would anyone care?</p>
<p>Roman steeled himself, throwing his shoulders back. He couldn’t have that. He was the Prince. He needed to act like it. Look like it. Be it. They already had one villain in Thomas’s mind that they had to deal with daily. They didn’t need a second one. He wouldn’t be a second one. He’d always said that he was on a solo quest to save himself. Time to prove it. </p>
<p><i>“Show me a smile then.”</i> Roman forced out, jerking his head back up to his reflection. A smile told so much about a person. He needed his to be confident. He gave his reflection the best grin he could muster. </p>
<p>He looked like a demented jack-o-lantern. </p>
<p>He would work on it.</p>
<p><i>“Don’t be unhappy.”</i> Roman straightened his back, lifting his chin. Nobody liked a wet blanket, nobody wanted a complainer. He reached out, touching the mirror. <i>“Can’t remember when….I….”</i> His hand slipped down the glass leaving black streaks. <i>“I...last saw you laughing.”</i>  </p>
<p>When was the last time he’d genuinely done just that? </p>
<p>No, that didn’t matter right now. </p>
<p>
  <i>“This world makes you crazy, and you’ve taken all you can bear.”</i>
</p>
<p>His eyes took on a determined glint as he pushed his hand back up the mirror to cover the reflection of his chest, resting just over his heart. Focus. </p>
<p>
  <i>“Just, call me up. ‘Cause I will always be there.”</i>
</p>
<p>He could rescue himself just fine. He was no damsel in distress. </p>
<p>Taking a deep breath, Roman belted out the next words, the negativity on his clothing swirling as his hand took on a golden glow. <i>“AND I SEE YOUR TRUE COLORS SHINING THROUGH!”</i> He spread out his fingers, the glow flowing to the black streaks on the mirror, the swirling energy tearing into the black marks, disintegrating them into multi-colored dust particles. </p>
<p>Roman gave a tiny smile. Good. It was working. He twitched his fingers, the golden glow on the mirror flowing off it to rush back up his arm, attacking the negativity hanging onto his clothes like rays of sunlight bursting through the clouds on a stormy day. </p>
<p>He could do this.</p>
<p>
  <i>“I see your true colors and that’s why I….”</i>
</p>
<p>Roman hesitated, shoulders tensing, the golden glow fading as he struggled to say the next word. It was always this line. Why always this line? </p>
<p>Come on. </p>
<p>Come on. </p>
<p>The glow faded further. His shirt growing blacker.</p>
<p>No. </p>
<p>Roman closed his eyes. </p>
<p>It was just one word.</p>
<p>Just one little word.</p>
<p>Say it. </p>
<p>Say Love. </p>
<p><i>“That’s why I….”</i> Roman grimaced, looking himself in the eye, struggling to keep his gaze steady. To not look away. <i>“Why I....”</i></p>
<p>Come on Roman. Breathe. Say it. </p>
<p><i>“...Like...you.”</i> He managed to whisper. </p>
<p>It wasn’t love, maybe it wouldn’t ever be love...but at least he didn’t say loathe this time. It wasn’t loathe. He would have to work with that. </p>
<p>He drew a breath, pasting a smile back on his face. Confidence. <i>“So don’t be afraid.”</i> His shadowed eyes glinted with hidden light. <i>“To let them show.”</i> He pulled his hand from the mirror, physically placing his glowing hand on his chest. </p>
<p>
  <i>“Your true colors.”</i>
</p>
<p>Red and Yellow crackled across the blackness holding onto his shirt. </p>
<p>He was a Prince. He was Creativity. He could do this.</p>
<p>
  <i>“True colors.”</i>
</p>
<p>Green and Blue separated from the negativity as it faded to a dark grey. </p>
<p>He had all the ideas. He would give Thomas good ideas. </p>
<p>
  <i>“Are….beautiful.”</i>
</p>
<p>He would never fail to breathe life into Thomas’ hopes and dreams. To share his goodness with the world.</p>
<p>He had this. He could do anything he put his mind to.</p>
<p>Roman set his hands back down onto the desk, the energy and negativity flowing from him onto to the darkened wood, splashing onto the floor and walls in a flood of color. </p>
<p><i>“I SEE YOUR TRUE COLORS. SHINING THROUGH.”</i> He sang out loudly, raising his chin, taking a step back, arms spreading wide as he spun in a circle. <i>“I see your true colors. And that’s why I…I like you.”</i></p>
<p>At least he didn’t hesitate as long this time. </p>
<p>A bigger smile tugged at his lips as he danced backwards, orange and purple now separating from the black negativity as he spun about the room.</p>
<p>He was the Prince. He was the hopes and dreams. He was Creativity. He could rescue himself just fine. He was no damsel needing rescuing by the others. He had this.</p>
<p><i>“So don’t be afraid to let them show. Your true colors.”</i> He stilled, hands still spread, the only movement the twitching of his fingers as he continued to pull the colors of the rainbow out of the darkness. </p>
<p>He didn’t care if Logan said that Black was the absence of color. White or Black, it took all the colors to create them, so it made sense all colors would reside within them. </p>
<p><i>“Your true colors, are beautiful.”</i> Roman relaxed, letting his voice ring in the air, the weight on his shoulders disappearing as his cloths shifted to white, the last of the negativity flowed off of them to swirl in the room, splitting into other colors, leaving no trace of black behind. <i>”Like a rainbow.”</i></p>
<p>He dropped his hands to his sides, the glow fading from them even as the colors continued to swirl around the room in a brilliant rainbow kaleidoscope, covering every surface. </p>
<p><i>“Ooooh oooh.”</i> He sang as he turned back to the mirror. <i>“Like a rainbow.”</i></p>
<p>The words echoed around the room as the rainbows faded, leaving the room in its original white state. </p>
<p>Roman grinned at his reflection, his eyes bright and cheerful once more. </p>
<p>There was the Prince everyone was expecting. </p>
<p>Confident. Strong. Ready to dash to the rescue. </p>
<p>He would do better. He could be better. He had this. </p>
<p> “Not bad, if I do say so myself.” He commented, studying his handy work. Not bad at all.</p>
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